Chocolatiers: The Tour
by Lace V. Lirk
Summary: Warning: some "more then mild" cussing. In this story, the five kids are more dimensional. Augustus is a self confident clown, Violet is a pressured overachiever, Veruca is outgoing, has a screwed up home life and craves actual friends, Mike is a cynical rebel, and Charlie is a naïve pushover. The story unravels VERY differently because of these changed characters.
1. Ravens, Bombs, and Elf-like Laughter

**Chocolatiers**

**Chapter 1: Ravens, Bombs, and Elf-like Laughter**

Charlie Bucket stood, staring at the deformed dolls on the stage perched in front of him. Eyes popped off of melted white miniatures as the music became garbled like out of that scene in cliché horror movies where the creepy music randomly plays from the piano, record player, music box, etc. The little kids behind the gate started to cry at this macabre scene of gore and fire. Charlie, assuming the nine other people standing in a line around him were doing the same, stared worried and wide eyed, at the scene in front of him.

"God, please don't let this be a bad omen" he thought to himself.

"I swear, all this needs is a raven to scream bad omen." The boy next to him said wryly. Charlie turned to the cynical boy. He was wearing a blue windbreaker and his hair was spiked up, catching the light snow. He nodded as if to say "I acknowledge you" and gave a sarcastic mini salute with two fingers. At that moment, a caw came out from above the stage. The two boys looked up. And what else but a black raven would be squatting proudly on the top of the stone roof above the entrance.

"Oh, that's just fucking perfect." Mike chuckled under his breath. He was smiling, smug about the whole thing, like he was hoping for a disastrous day. Charlie inhaled deeply at that word, and then laughed nervously. He thought it was funny, but cussing was highly discouraged in his family, and the way Mike was slouching would be frowned upon too, and the tee shirt with a flaming skeleton head as well.

* * *

Violet Beauregarde decided to avert her eyes from the train wreck unfolding before her eyes and looked to the kids lined up to the side of her. She was the only one among them with a fighting chance of winning, of course. Between fatty, rich girl, the annoying punk, and the Jesus reincarnation, she knew she was the only one with enough guts to be competitive and enough kiss-up ability to get Wonka to like her. Yeah, she knew she was being a kiss-ass to get ahead, she wasn't in denial about that. And maybe she was over competitive, but those are the people that make it in this world.

* * *

Augustus Gloop, along with everyone else standing in that line, took his eyes away from the scene before him and leaned forward a bit. He saw the gum-chewing girl, Violet Beauregarde, standing 2 people away. She was looking forward at the stage with a blank stare as the dolls continued to melt and their springs popped. As Violet stared at the man, she chewed that record-breaking gum in a repetitive motion. Augustus had to admit he was attracted to her from the moment he saw her interview. Her licorice-flexible body, her intense blue eyes, her confident attitude, he wouldn't mind getting to know her today, put his moves on her. Violet suddenly turned from the strange chocolatier over in his direction of Augustus.

"Alright" Augustus whispered, "Showtime". Violet looked straight at Augustus, and he started the sexiness. "Keep the sexiness at 5 for the moment" he thought. He raised his eyebrows to the girl and presented his sexiest smile, lifting up one side of his mouth.

"Okay, you got her attention, now wheel her in. Sexiness to 11!" He flipped his hair back and gave the largest wink he could, while clicking his tongue.

Violet scoffed in that "valley girl" like way. She did a quick "uh" and breathed out through her nose, rolling her eyes throughout. She leaned back into her straight up position. Augustus got back in line as well, than looked down at his… robust stomach. Most girls he asked turned him down, probably because of it. Sure, his belly was so large he couldn't see his feet unless he pushed the fat back, but please, it was just more of him to love.

* * *

Veruca Salt was more excited then she had probably been in her entire life. It was weird; she usually didn't get excited like this. Just living in a family where you get everything you could want kind of takes the excitement out of everything. But here, with a gigantic white castle looming over her, the child-like giddiness crept up inside her. And hey, now that she thought about it, this could be a good chance to make friends.

Yeah, 13 years of life and she might finally be making friends. She nervously laughed, then leaned out of the line and looked around. She looked toward the guy to her left, his name was… Augustus, that's right!

"Hey" she stated cheerily, waving with energy. He leaned out toward her and started nodding and lifting his eyebrows, half smiling the whole time.

"Heeeey, sup'?" he returned, dragging it out, and officially dropping any pretense of being subtle in his routine. Veruca laughed at the cartoonish attempt at sexiness, but it did feel nice to see a guy trying to get her attention. A snarky retort from behind her snapped her out of the moment, though.

"I know you look like a spoiled little airhead, but don't tell me you're that stupid to actually fall for that same awful routine he did on me?" Veruca spun her head around to see who it was. The girl standing there was wearing a parka over a blue jump suit, and she had limbs skinny as twigs. She crossed her arms and scolded Veruca with nearly disgusted eyes.

Augustus leaned back, rolling his eyes and mumbling "Pfft, I know I'm fabulous."

Veruca, hoping to fight Violet's meanness with friendliness jolted out her hand like a spring.

"Hi, I'm Veruca" she said with teeth that wanted so badly wanted to grit and a forced smile that seemed like hooks had been planted into the sides of her lips just to pull them open. But hey, Veruca thought, you never know what people are like when they open up…

Violet stared at the hand like it was a grenade, and then just leaned away, glaring through Veruca's soul with laser eyes. Veruca's awkward hand, still hanging out, was shaking in fear. She kept smiling, unblinking, keeping up a staring contest with Violet. Violet eventually leaned back in line, but not before scoffing off Veruca and whispering the words "just another bug on another dashboard". But Veruca just continued to stand out of line, arm out, eyes wide with fear. A tiny valley girl shouldn't be that frightening, but that stare was burned into her mind. Her dad, recently getting off a business phone call, turned his head to his daughter.

"Veru…" he began in his posh accent. But Veruca suddenly snapped out of her daze and got back in line, arms stiffly folded to the side like an army woman. Her dad gave her a confused look that could pass for disgust, with half of his lip open and half closed, and eyebrows raised. It was just the "posh" way of doing it.

"I'm fine" Veruca whispered, the wind still feeling knocked out of her by that stare, and it showed. Yet Mr. Salt turned away, not wishing to probe further.

* * *

"Wait for it" Mike Teavee said.

Mike and Charlie had their heads ducked out of the line, watching Veruca.

"Wait for i-i-it" he repeated in a higher pitch.

Charlie just darted his eyes between Mike right in front of him and Veruca down the line.

"Wait for i-i-i-i" Mike continued, getting higher with each "i". Charlie was very confused as to what was happening. Mike had just told him to watch Veruca and Violet because he had a feeling "sparks would fly". But all Charlie was seeing was Veruca offering a hand of friendship and Violet refusing.

"i-i-i-i-i" Mike-the-broken-record-and-canary-seemingly-gettin g- high-from-helium continued, before Charlie suddenly stopped him.

"What are we waiting for?" he excitedly asked Mike. The sarcastic teen turned around and gave a small chuckle.

"Veruca over there" at which point he discreetly pointed to the girl down the line. "is like a bomb that's about to go off and explode ALL over Violet." Charlie slapped his hand onto his mouth and gasped.

"You mean" Charlie whispered leaning in further to Mike, looking mortified, "Veruca… is…an… actual bomb?" Charlie stood back up and began panicking, jumping from foot to foot and waving his hands. Mike just laughed into cupped hands.

"Yes Charlie" Mike began, "Veruca is a literal bomb and I'm just standing here doing nothing." Mike crossed his arms and smirked, but Charlie wasn't paying attention at this point. His fearful eyes seemed magnetized on Veruca, and he took a quick step forward, before a bewildered Mike grabbed his arm and pulled him back so they were facing each other.

"What are you doing?" Mike asked him under his breath.

"I...I thought you said…" Charlie stumbled.

"I was being sarcastic." Mike slowly explained.

"Right" Charlie said. He gave a few slow nods as he averted his stare over his shoulder, taking a look at a, to be abrupt, oblivious Grandpa Joe. After a slow turn around, he saw a perplexed Mike looking at him.

"What is it?" he asked.

"My family just hates sarcasm in any form." Charlie answered. "They think it's too mean, a form of bullying. They never use it, they ground me when I use it, they even discourage against me hanging out with other kids who use it." Charlie shrugged so blasé about it, like it was such a normal element of family life. Mike, meanwhile, looked taken aback. His head was tilted, his eyes were large, his eyebrows were wide, and his mouth was slightly open and ajar. Suddenly, Mike changed tone. He smiled, nodded, and patted Charlie on the shoulder.

"Charlie Bucket, I'm going to give you some life lessons today."

* * *

Violet, confident that she had properly instilled fear in Veruca, stood back in line next to her mom. She was flashing her winning smile, the one that she practiced for hours in front of the mirror. It was the perfect grin, everybody she saw was won over by it, who could find anything wrong with such an innocent, charming, smile? She could plaster it on at any time to hide any emotion, and everybody would consider her the sweetest little angel. It was the perfect way to start getting on people's good side, and get ahead because of it.

She noticed her mom slightly nodding next to her. Violet looked up to the nearly identical looking woman. "It was good." she said to Violet without the smallest hint of excitement in her voice. "You could work on your intimidating stare, however."

Violet nodded, still keeping that smile while cheerily saying "Thanks mom." That was a pretty big compliment by her mom's standard, actually. Violet then looked up to where the large red throne was sitting. No Mr. Wonka had shown up yet, so all there was to see was a crackling fire, disturbingly burned dolls, and a large crowd still pressed behind the gate, some eagerly waiting, some little kids crying, and some reporters flashing pointless picture after pointless picture. Violet started doubting he would even show up. If you were hosting a world famous, extremely exclusive tour that everyone was chomping at the bit to get into, after years of hiding away and starting up your factory after not seeming to hire any workers, you think you would at least try to be on time. But then…

"Wasn't that just fantastic!" This high-pitched, almost elf-like laughter started from the right end of the line. A man; dressed in a bright red overcoat, a tall black top hat, and chalk white skin, skipped up to the middle of the stage. Still keeping that smile. Everyone, all the people crowded behind the gate and the ten people lined up before the stage, became statue silent. The man nodded at the crowd blankly, then jumped and pulled a card out of his pocket. He held it in front of him with shaky gloved hands and monotonously read from it, as if it was the first time. "Good morning Starshine, the earth says hello." He read. He looked up with an encouraging smile, but just looked dopey. Seeing only empty stares, he quickly ducked his head behind the card again. Violet still kept that smile. "Dear guests, greetings. Welcome to the factory. I shake you warmly by the hand." The man then looked up and put out a hand, not seeming to realize that the closest people were about 10 feet away. He kept the arm out, for several painfully awkward seconds, Violet guessed hoping that someone would leap forward and vigorously shake his hand. Eventually, Wonka realized nothing would happen, so he ducked behind the card one final time. Violet still kept that smile. "My name is Willy Wonka." It seemed with certification that this extremely idiosyncratic man was indeed the world famous chocolatier got mixed reactions.

The first person to break the piercing silence was a loud, passionate yell of "I LOVE YOU, WILLY WONKA!" The same voice shrieked and giggled, as others around her joined. Violet, along with a few other kids in line, ducked around to see who it was. There they were, as Violet figured they would be. A group of several teenage girls about her age, wearing pink shirts with silver Ws on them, were excitedly jumping around and giggling. She had seen their fan fiction, and fan art. They all portrayed the mysterious Wonka as a brooding, muscular hunk with a dark back-story. He was the type that "just needed some affection". Violet turned around and chuckled at how that group of girls would react if they got any closer, and saw that Willy Wonka was just a frail, tiny, pale man. After finishing her snide chuckle, she noticed her mom staring daggers into her.

"Violet" she quietly scolded. "Do I have to tell you again?"

Violet shrunk into her parka and mumbled "No." Her mom's most famous saying had been basically branded into her brain by this point. "Save fun for later, right now win." Every time Violet broke when she was supposed to be in cutthroat mode, and started laughing or, God Forbid, trying to befriend the competition, Mrs. Beauregarde would snap that saying and Violet would be immediately intimidated. She plastered that smile on again and looked around. She looked to her right and saw Mike and Charlie talking and laughing. She looked to her left, that girl Veruca glanced in Violet's direction, but quickly darted her eyes forward again. Augustus was staring forward to a still awkwardly nodding Wonka like he was a god. Violet then felt her hand against the small rectangular packet in her pocket. A pang of sadness moved through her. She realized she had no one to tell. Her mother would tear her apart, and she wasn't really allowed to have any friends. She never really thought about it, but yeah, she had no friends. She just competed and won, competed and won, in a large, continuous cycle. Her mom might be wrong, there may be no fun later, just another trophy to win. And with that thought, for the first time, her smile faltered.


	2. Chicken, Shredders, and E-bay

**AN: Yay! It's not dead! I forgot to put before last chapter, I of course do not own Charlie and The Chocolate Factory or any of the characters. Also, there are some small elements from the 2005 movie (the world which this is set in) besides the main characters that have been changed. Just be aware that these are on purpose and not me being ignorant of the story. Enjoy!**

**Chocolatiers**

**Chapter 2: Chicken, Shredders, and Forces of the Universe**

* * *

"It's rather toasty in here, Mr. Wonka" Charlie heard Mrs. Teavee remark upon entering the sprawling entrance hall. It was a dull, gray hall, tall and arched like a cathedral. Light slanted into the hall through high windows, and the only splotch of color was the red carpet that stretched from the entrance to the unseen end.

"Oh, yeah." Wonka replied, spinning around and aimlessly staring into the group of ten. "I need to keep it warm in here for my workers, they just can't _stand_ the cold." Charlie remembered the mysterious workers. His Grandpa Joe, who used to work tat the factory, would tell it every day. Decades ago, Wonka fired every worker in the factory, including Grandpa Joe, because spies were infiltrating and giving recipes to other companies. The whole world was devastated, but it was especially hard on the small town that the factory was in. Nearly all of the jobs in town were gone, people moved, and everyone that stayed trudged the streets with long faces. Then, 10 years ago, a girl noticed smoke rising from the towering stacks against the dawn sky. She began running down the dirty main street and screaming "THE FACTORY IS OPEN!" at the top of her lungs like Paul Revere. A group of hundreds gathered around the gates by the time the sun was fully up, waiting for the silver gates to creak open and Willy Wonka to come dashing out and give out jobs. Unfortunately, that never happened, but the town got re-energized. People seemed lively, more businesses opened, the town got cleaned up, and even some more people moved into town. It was never the same, but it was good enough. But nobody ever figured out who had replaced the workers. Robots, ghosts, beings made of chocolate, and aliens were just a few of the rumors that drifted through the town air over the years. The gossip winds eventually died away and stopped whistling, but Charlie had never stopped thinking about it. In fact, he could ask Wonka now...

But a chuckle next to Charlie distracted him from his thoughts. "Workers? You don't mean robots?" the chuckler Mike loudly asked. Everyone in the hall shot their heads behind them to see the boy in the back who would dare question the great Wonka.

"What was that?" Mr. Wonka breathily asked from the front of the group, flamboyantly putting a hand to his ear and leaning toward Mike. Mike, despite the ominous Wonka, didn't falter.

"I said" Mike articulated "that you meant robots, because there's no way that you closed down your whole factory because you couldn't do your job and keep a few lousy spies out, destroy this town's economy, then years later reopen the factory and not hire back anyone from this town." Well, Charlie thought, that's another way of phrasing the story.

* * *

Alright, Mike mused as he plastered on a confident grin. The ball is on Wonka's side of the court now. And indeed, everybody in the hall dodged their heads from Mike to the chocolatier like it was tennis, waiting for a rebuttal. He was honestly a little surprised that everybody was so compelled into this potential debate. But it was all for the better, as far as he was concerned. He had always been a rabble-rouser, and having an audience was the majority of actually being a successful one.

Wonka took a single leisurely step forward, and everyone cleared out to the sides of the carpet, except for Mike, who stayed firmly planted where he was. It looked more like a Mexican standoff now then anything else.

"Well" Wonka said as he started taking more slow steps toward Mike. "I guess you should just add that to the list of whines about my factory that you won't do anything about." With those last nonchalant words, Wonka was leaning over Mike, smugly smiling and icily staring straight at Mike's upturned head. Mike was a fairly tall 13 year old, but Wonka's slender man like figure made him stand a solid foot above the teen. Mike kept up his now shaking smile as he controlled his shivering legs. Wonka kept up that stare, a stare that seemed to pierce through Mike's soul, for seconds that inched by slow as a snail, while everybody else stood around and waited.

Suddenly, Wonka made a quick 180 degrees spin, his coattails almost whipping a frozen Mike in the calves. As soon as Wonka wasn't staring at him, Mike stopped his charade of smugness and confidence, and his whole face dropped and went pale. Wonka giddily dashed to his original position, spun around on a single foot, and faced the group from the front again. He began talking to the mass, but it just sounded like a dull roar to Mike. He barely noticed that everybody began to huddle into a line with Mike at the back. He was too busy looking as horrified as he did the day he first saw Texas Chainsaw (He was 7). He did feel his mom nudge him in the side, though.

"Son" she said.

"What is it?" Mike darted his head over to his "prepare-to-be-scolded-faced" mom.

"You know that was wrong."

Mike sheepishly turned away and stuttered "Yeah, I…I know that now."

* * *

As Mr. Wonka told them to get in a line and hand him their tickets for a final forgery check, Violet strode to the front. She locked a hug around Wonka, and flashed her winning smile to him. She knew that "save the best for last" was crap, that people remember the first, the one that starts it all. She was also sure that with Mike on Wonka's bad side, she was already one step closer to winning. Wonka was trying to survey the whole line, but her cheery voice and hug that cut off his circulation yanked his head down to her like a magnet.

"Hi Mr. Wonka! I'm ready for the tour! It's going to be BESTEST day of all time!" Wonka flinched back a bit, out of Violet's grip, but the girl stood her ground. Cheekily smiling, she stuck out her sacred ticket and kept eye contact with a stunned Mr. Wonka.

"Well, okay then!" He was able to force out in happiness. He quickly plucked the ticket out of her hand and held it up to the light of the high windows, face transitioning from slightly horrified to analytical. His eyes narrowed, but he opened them again to give a peculiar look to Violet. She gulped a bit. He was probably referring to the holes in the ticket. She remembered back to how they got there.

She was sitting at the living room table, with a decent sized pile of Wonka bars to the right and another sack of opened ones to the left, and her mother ominously supervising in front of her. Violet was rapidly pulling, opening and throwing. I'm going to win this prize, Violet thought, I know how important it is. In her continuous pattern of opening chocolate bars, she heard her mom encouraging from the side…

"You only have 5 minutes until we have to go to soccer, then you have piano, then a karate competition. Are you slowing down? Do you want to disgrace the Beauregarde name?" Well, it was Beauregarde encouragement. Violet tore open one more bar, the glint of gold flashing by her eye. She was too much of autopilot to notice, so her mom did for her. "Stop!" she yelled. Violet was throwing the bar and ticket into the sack, before her mom quickly snatched it out of the air. Violet snapped her head over, and smiled as her mom displayed the ticket for her. She grabbed it out of her mom's hand and forgot about how serious she was supposed to be all the time. She jumped up in the air and cheered as her mom crossly folded her arms. As Violet dropped the ticket during her rare showing of joy, it got stamped beneath her soccer cleats. Scarlet Beauregarde grabbed the ticket and began to stand over Violet like a giant. "VIOLET!" She yelled. The teenager crouched onto the couch and humbly looked down. Scarlet Beauregarde, Violet thought, the only person in the world who could intimidate Violet the intimidator.

* * *

As Violet and her mom stepped to the side of the carpet with their mangled ticket, Augustus strode up with his. "Hello, Mr. Wonka!" he chuckled out. "You're my hero, you know." He gleefully smiled as he handed Wonka the ticket. Gus didn't even notice the off-putted look Wonka was giving him when he took it. He continued to smile as Wonka tried to analyze the ticket, despite the ring of burns on it.

Yeah, like Violet, he had managed to ruin his ticket mere seconds after finding it. He had been in the Gloop's extensive kitchen, experimenting with different recipes as usual, listening to his guilty pleasure American pop. It helped with his English, was his weak rationalization. He opened the oven and pushed in a raw chicken. Shoving the door closed with his side while he danced, he took a Wonka bar out of the shopping bag. He was going to melt it for some new type of chocolate sauce. Maybe he'd try mixing in cherries and strawberries this time, he thought, as he turned up notch for one of the stovetops. It would probably taste terrible, but he was crazy like that. But then, when he tore the wrapper open and flipped it around, his eyes sparked with joy. He launched his fists into the air and cheered, clownishly dancing to the appropriately upbeat (and vapidly shallow) "Party Rock Anthem". But, as the way of Murphy's Law, of course the ticket would fly out of his hand and fall flat on the red-hot stovetop. Augustus didn't even care, as he quickly swiped up the ticket and continued dancing.

* * *

Wonka noticed the next girl coming up to him, beaming with excitement. Oh boy, the spoiled rich girl, she'll be the worst, worse then the then the creepily animated over-competitive one and the one obsessed with him. He inhaled and braced for impact. As he stayed petrified, the girl simply walked up, stuck the ticket into a still hand, as she said, simply and smoothly "Hello Mr. Wonka, it's great to meet you." Wonka exhaled and relaxed. Good, he thought, at least one normal one.

* * *

Veruca walked to the group on the far side of Wonka with a spring in her step, while her completely unemotional dad stood above her. Wonka repeated his scrutinizing process, especially with the quarter end that was frayed into strips by the shredder.

Yup, the shredder. She had been sitting in her gigantic bedroom (pink), on a large cushy beanbag (pink), with an X-box controller (pink) staring with focus at a large flat screen TV (well, not pink, but it should be), attempting another of the new 1st person shooting games.

Alright, she thought, press X to… wait, no, I meant to go right, wait are those ghosts… AAAH, NAZIS! Okay, calm down, A, Y, Joystick, left, wait, how am I against a wall? So, B to back u… now I'm in the wall? Do I press that to turn around… hey I got that right! YAAAY…oh, the Nazi shot me.

She threw the controller against the carpet (pink) and crossed her arms. "I never get what I want" she pouted, ignoring the vast room filled with things she had wanted and always got. She heard the bedroom door (pink) swing open. Turning around to see her dad entering with a half-hearted grin and a flash of gold in his hands, she jumped up and dashed to him. Veruca grabbed the ticket and squeezed the stiff man with great gusto. "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you" she repeated endlessly. Soon, however, her dad coldly pushed her off and placed her in front of him while she fidgeted.

"Veruca" he said with only a smidge of care in his voice, "Mom and I have to leave for a few weeks on business, we'll be back right before the tour. The butlers will take care of you again, okay?" A buzzing started in his pocket. He pulled out a phone and pressed it between a shoulder and ear. "Okay, I have to take this and then leave." He turned out of the room and started to chatter.

Veruca felt like her heart had dropped straight through her body, the mansion, the ground, hell, all the way to the other side of the world. I mean, her dad had done this exact thing so many times before, but he had always said goodbye, or at the very least seem sad. And it happened at probably the happiest moment of her life, too. He didn't even care, did he? But then Veruca realized she knew how to get his attention, even if it was only for a few seconds.

She stormed out of her room and stood on the paisley carpet in the never-ending stone hallway. Her dad quickly paced ahead, words echoing off walls like tennis balls. She clenched her fists, glanced toward the shredder next to her, and bellowed out some high-pitched words.

"Daddy!" she yelled. But her dad kept marching, so she went to plan B. Pulling out the ticket and flipping on the switch, she screamed again, "If you walk away, I'm shredding the ticket!" Her dad snapped around, almost dropping the phone, but hesitated in running. So, she stuck the golden plastic slightly inside the shredder, with a stoic face. Veruca had a lot of problems, but she was not a liar or a bluffer. Her dad tried to quickly finish up his phone conversation while fast walking, so Veruca continued to mock his dad as the ticket kept shredding into strips. "All that money and effort gone to absolute waste." And now her dad started running, stuffing the phone back in his pocket with panic. When he was a few meters away, she pressed down on the switch and yanked out a partially destroyed ticket, an unreadable poker face stuck on.

The man panted as he got up close. He put his hands against his knees and looked up at the girl that was now shadowing over him. "What…is…it?" he wrangled out.

"Remember to get me a gift." She said in a snobbish manor. Her dad stood up again and nodded toward his daughter.

"Of course." He answered. "Goodbye Veruca." He finished as he turned around. As he confidently strode to the end of the hallway, Veruca slightly smiled. It was a formal farewell, he would probably give it to business associates the same way, but the important thing was that he did it. And she knew he would go through the whole trip and think "Veruca, Veruca, what to get Veruca, what does she like?" or else come home to Volcano Veruca, exploding all over the house.

He didn't notice her any other way, she thought passively, as she fell onto her plushy bed. But now that the business with her dad was done, she could get excited about the factory again. As a sudden burst of energy took over her brain, her first thought was to text her friends the good news. She yanked the I-phone out of its charger and turned it on, slightly bouncing on her bed as she sat on the edge. She clicked on her contacts and… she stopped bouncing. As she scrolled through the names, she realized there were none that were her actual friends. Sure, there were some kids in there, but he knew that her friendship with all of them was as shallow as a wade pool; they were sucking off of her family's wealth. They just thought she was too hollow headed to realize, as rich seemed to be synonymous with stupid to a lot of people. She didn't feel like talking with those types of people at the moment.

Veruca fell all the way back on her bed as her excitement got eaten away by melancholy. She tried making herself happy again by thinking: "You have everything you could possibly want, you have noting to be sad about", over and over again.

"You have nothing to be sad about, you have nothing to be sad about", but as she faded into sleep, the sentence started to whittle down until she fully fell into slumber, "You have nothing to be sad abou, you have nothing to be sa, you have nothing to, you have nothing, you have nothing".

* * *

Charlie took timid steps toward the towering chocolatier, feeling pure awe. He had always fantasized about the moment. He had created a factory out of toothpaste caps, submitted fanfiction about the moment online (ashamedly), collected wrappers from the few Wonka bars he received, searched the curious recluse for hours online in the library, as much as he possibly could do despite his… family's economic status. From the strange tone Wonka had had with Mike earlier, Charlie started having second thoughts about the man he had always idolized. But oh well, probably nothing. He handed the man the ticket and shyly averted his eyes. As he rushed to the side with the others ticket winners, Charlie noticed the man thinly smile out of his peripheral vision. Wonka dubiously looked to Charlie as he examined the ticket, the look probably about the crumples and slightly melted words. Charlie gulped back a bit. That was a classic story of the Bucket's "caring soul", as they liked to put it.

He burst out the door and the rusty welcoming bell madly rang because of it. Running through the sludgy snow, whipping the gold through the air, screaming with all his air "I WON THE LAST GOLDEN TICKET", he felt free as a bird. He began spinning and panting and laughing about halfway to his home down the road, slowing down a bit but not caring. Then, he felt a hand cup him around the shoulder and spin him around. After quickly recovering from the disorientation, his smile shriveled. "Oh, uh, hi, Carter" Charlie was able to form as his eyes darted everywhere but in front of him. But with a singular "Ahem" from Carter, Charlie snapped straight to attention like a dog.

Carter was a beefy, muscular kid, with a thick mushroom hair cut that started all the way above his ears, a protruding lip, and glaring eyes. Typical bully, but he still scared Charlie witless. "So" he began, "I see you won the final golden ticket." He took a few intimidating steps, his chest now pressing right against Charlie. "You know, my family has spent $100s of dollars on bars over these last few weeks, haven't been able to pay for some of our bills." He folded his arms and clenched his fists. Charlie began to shiver a bit. "You only bought 2 or 3, right?" Charlie nervously nodded. "So it would probably be best if you gave me that ticket now since I clearly deserve it." Charlie was screaming in his mind with the force of an army; _It's not my fault you were stupid enough to spend all your money on chocolate and not keep your house up, do you think you're the only one who dedicated time and money into this? Cause you're not, so many others have, and they, as well as I, deserve this just as much as your big self-absorbed self!_

But he would never say that. Like his family mantra went: Always respond by being nice. And his family stayed strict with that rule. The nice, proper thing to do was give it to him, he thought as he protruded the ticket in the air between the two of them. Carter stared dumbly at it for a second, then snatched it and bolted. Carter snickered as he dopily ran away from a stock still Charlie, hiding the ticket under his jacket. Charlie sniffled a little bit. For a moment he thought he was going to burst from excitement, now he thought he was going to shrivel from extreme sorrow. It would be embarrassing to see a 14-year-old cry, he knew that, but the tears welled up anyways. He tried forcing them back, knowing it would not only be embarrassing, but selfish. He had done the right thing, right? And Carter's family had spent all that money, maybe they did deserve it. Even though Charlie was so close to having his wildest dream come true, and it was so suddenly torn away, maybe as time went by, Carter would come back to him and thank him and they would become friends.…

Charlie sobbed into his hands. But then, he heard Carter, somewhere down the sidewalk, whining. Charlie moved his puffy eyes out of his cupped hands. Sam, the fairly hefty shop owner that had always been Charlie's friend and the one that Charlie had bought the winning Wonka bar from, was dragging Carter back toward Charlie by the back of the shirt in one hand and holding the ticket in another.

"Hey, Let go! You're hurtin' me!" Carter whined through a tight choke as he was lugged through the snow, helplessly flailing his arms and legs. As Sam wrangled the bully to stand up in front of him, Charlie quivered on a smile. He admitted to himself this was a sweet little revenge fantasy… although that was probably mean.

Sam handed Charlie the ticket, which Charlie quickly took and shoved in his pocket before slightly smiling. Sam turned to a still struggling Carter and scolded him like a teacher. "Carter, 'pologize to 'Harlie 'or stealin' 'is 'icket, NOW!" he intimidated through his thick British accent.

Charlie shifted his eyes from Sam to a furious Carter. He suddenly felt like he was shriveling again. "You know" he began stuttering to Sam, "I…I think I sh…should do the kind thing since Carter spent a…a lot more money on Wonka bars the…then me, so" Charlie began reaching his hand into his pocket to take his ticket out, before Sam stopped him.

"'Harlie, 'at are you doin?" he yelled. He got in close to Charlie now and intensely whispered. "You 'ound that 'icket, and you 'eserve it. Alrigh'? Charlie nodded and stepped back as Sam turned back to Carter. "You" Sam pressed a finger against Devin's chest, "are 'oing to ay' sorry 'ight now!" Carter moaned and looked at Charlie. He tried fidgeting away one more time, and Sam tightened the shirt grip, keeping his stern face. Charlie started felling like this was a kindergarten situation more then a teenage one.

"I'm sorry" Carter mumbled.

"'OUDER!" Sam screamed.

"I'm sorry!" Carter said. Sam let go of his shirt, and Carter stumbled a bit before shooting a dirty look to both Sam and Charlie and trudging northward.

"'Ome on, I'll 'alk you home'." Sam started as the two began to walk southward, "I'll make sure you 'on't 'ive your 'icket away 'gain."

Charlie ashamedly turned away and chuckled. "Yeah, thank you so much for back there."

"Oh, it 'as 'othing." He waved it off humbly. "'Ut you should 'earn to 'tand up for 'ourself." Charlie shook his head no. His family had always taught him to avoid conflict and try not to be mean, and he was going to stick by that.

"'ine then" Sam replied. He then stopped and turned his head around. "An' you! Ca'te'!" Carter shot his head around from about ten feet away. Sam smirked. "'Our'e goin' inoo 'igh school. It migh' be 'ime to stop 'our'e firs' grade 'evel bullyin'."

* * *

The Showdown At Wonka's: Part Deux, Mike thought, as he was walking up to the man. Once he was right in front of him, Mike stared right up at Wonka with unfaltering confidence, but the man returned with a smug smile, also without falter. Then, and Mike was quite perturbed by this, Wonka leaned down on his knees so he was right at Mike's eye line. On the surface, he seemed like a dad that was leaning down to his son, to give a deep meaningful talk. But the man's thin smile, slightly glazed over eyes, and gaunt structure made him seem more insidious then that. Mike felt the many pupils to his right watching, just waiting for the drama to unfold.

Okay, what the hell is this, Mike thought.

"Why are you in my factory?" he whispered.

Alright, best sarcastic retort you can think of.

"Cause I won a ticket." He heard a few moans from the side.

Yeah, that was pretty bad.

Wonka raised his eyebrows. "Really, why?" He seemed more curious and pained instead of intimidating. Mike quickly shot a look at his mom, who turned away, before turning back to Wonka. He took in a deep breath.

"Well…"

He jogged the suburbia streets, boring cookie cutter clone house after boring cookie cutter clone house. Just three more turns, and the mile will be done. Granted, those three turns made up about 90% of the mile, but goddamn he was exhausted already. Mike thought to himself then; That's what you get when you try to be healthy, after years of sitting in front of a screen and watching "South Park" while hacking or programming something. He stopped at a bench that was just like every other bench you'd find exactly 51.3 feet away from each other in his neighborhood, because that's just how bizarre this "normal" town was. He sat down and looked around, not like there was anything to see. He noticed the large crowd lining up at Mel's Candy Store down the road. Ever since the contest started, a group would slowly gather at around 6:00 AM, and get steadily larger until about 5:30, when the store closed. Mike felt a bit superior to the crowd as he leaned back in the bench. Mike had recently hacked into the Wonka delivery system, working on it as a side project when he was bored. He had been able to crack what state or what region of a country each ticket had been sent to, he knew one was somewhere in his state of Colorado. Not that he planned to find it. Honestly, he didn't even like chocolate, and he did not want to go on that factory tour. It all seemed too shady to him, and who would want to go with the 3 kids that had won so far? Then, he looked over to Mel's again and felt the money in his pocket. He hadn't actually tried chocolate in years, and even though he wasn't the type to be superstitious, he felt some force of the universe pulling him toward the candy shop.

So, after texting his dad to say he'd be a bit late, and twenty minutes of shuffling in line toward Mel's, Mike walked through the doors. There were only a few stragglers since the store was about to close, but what made Mike halt in the doorway was the flood of Wonka bars on the shelves and stands. There was literally no other type of candy in the whole store. Mike peculiarly looked around, before pulling a plain milk chocolate bar and going up to the counter. A tired Mel stood on the other side, at this point in the long day not even seeming to care as he laid his head on his propped up palm.

"Only Wonka Bars?" Mike asked as he put the money and candy on the counter.

Mel opened his eyes. "Yeah" he replied after a yawn, "only thing anybody's bought since the competition started, and they buy it in piles. Jus' made sense to me" He shrugged and got up from his resting position. He took the money, went through the process, and Mike walked out with a quarter and a Wonka bar, as Mel lazily waved goodbye and fell back into his drowsy state.

As Mike started jogging on his route again, he tore open the back. Sunlight flashed off of a piece of gold and momentarily blinded Mike. When he got his vision back, Mike stopped, stared at what was in his hands, and then shook a fist at the sky. "Damn you, forces of the Universe" he whispered.

Two and a half thousand dollars? No, five thousand, definitely five thousand. Mike held the golden prize in front of himself, while the multicolored letters of Ebay's logo were in the corner of his vision. He smiled as he thought about it some more. His family would be able to make so much money off of this! He clicked on the word "sell" as he propped the ticket against laptop screen. The laptop was in the center of his "Post-Modern Frankenstein", as he called it. It was a gigantic mass of glowing screens and tangled wires, ranging from the very left of his wooden desk to the very right.

He heard footsteps go by his door, and quickly shoved the ticket into his pocket again. He knew his parents would force him to keep the ticket. They had been pushing him since the beginning of the competition to buy Wonka bars, telling him it was a "once in a lifetime opportunity" at least once a day. As the footsteps faded away, Mike pulled out the ticket again and started filling out information. As he typed, he started thinking about how many other people were probably selling fake tickets. His ticket might not even go for that much…

But as he drifted into thought, he didn't notice his mom opening the door and walking into his room to tell him dinner was ready. He looked from his mom to the ticket, then back to his mom. As his face became grim and he sighed morosely, his mom looked the polar opposite. She was clearly exuberant and giddily cheered as she hopped over to her son. She tightly squeezed around him as he uncomfortably fidgeted around.

"I thought you said you wouldn't look for one, but you found one, it's going to be so fun, you'll love it, I just know it…" she could barely form actual sentences as she rambled, and even after Mike pushed her arms away she kept talking. "How did you find it? I never saw you buy any tickets, did you hack into the packaging system, I told you that you shouldn't have." She got up pointed to a screen on the left of "Post Modern Frankenstein", one filled with seemingly random numbers, letters and signs.

"Actually", Mike interrupted, "I did it with this one". He pointed his thumb to a clunky computer behind himself. "Also mom, I think…"

But his mom steamrolled right over him as she clamped around his waist with iron arms again. "Well, you still did work to find it, so you definitely deserve to go, I'll let the hacking slide, it's going to be amazing!"

"Mom, please get off." Mike tried being polite, but that "sweet" part of his angst-ridden teenage brain quickly vanished. "Mom, get off!" he yelled as he finally forced her arms off.

"Michael Teavee, what has…" she began to scold, but Mike cut her off quickly.

"Mom, I'm going to sell the ticket."

"What? But you can't." She sounded like a toddler who had just had her ice cream taken away.

"Mom, it would sell for so much, and I don't even want to go."

"This" she pointed to the ticket, "is a once in a lifetime opportunity. You found it, you're keeping it, and you'll thank me when you're older, end of story. And come down for dinner soon." Mike glared at his mom as she turned around and walked away. Not like the glare meant anything at this point in their relationship, she had become immune to it long ago. But Mike still kept it up anyways, out of the pure anger toward his parents. He even kept his enraged focus at his bedroom door long after his mom had closed it and walked down the hall. He turned around and huffed at the scalding bright gold of the ticket. Then, in the heat of the moment, he jumped up and tore the "precious" prize right through the middle. He wasn't entirely sure why, but he had to release the frustration someway. He crumpled the pieces in his fists and pelted them at his garbage can. When he missed, he didn't care, and afterwards Mike turned his fiery eyes out the window. He looked over the perfectly similar houses, the perfectly manicured lawns, the perfectly spaced benches and lampposts, the perfect lack of culture and genuineness and said to himself through gritted teeth; "I swear, if this neighborhood doesn't drive me insane, my parents will."


End file.
